Insurrection (Nevermore #1)(22)

She shivered in revulsion, wishing she could paint them the bright eggplant and green colors she’d used in her old Huntsville house that Rick had managed to steal out from under her.

“I’ll get some pictures.”

Some drapes.

That would help cheer things up a bit more. Especially if one was a picture of her ex with an axe planted firmly between his eyes.

Smiling at the thought, Anna set the box down, then opened her door to return to her car for another load . . . and almost ran smack dab into a young man.

Handsome and ripped, he was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt as if he were about to go running.

“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

She scowled as she caught a glimpse of his pupils through his dark sunglasses. For an instant, she could have sworn they flashed red. Must have been an optical illusion. “No problem. I’m just moving in.”

“Ah.” He glanced at her door. “I’m in the apartment above you. I was wondering if anyone would ever move into this one, again.”

Her frown deepened at the odd note in his voice. “What do you mean?”

He stopped scrolling through his playlist and lowered his phone. “You hadn’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

One brow shot north. “Um . . . nothing. Nothing at all.” As he started to leave she stopped him.

“Do you have a name?”

“Of course.” And with that, he dodged out the doors and down the stairs, toward the parking lot.

Okay then. He’d obviously flunked Southern Hospitality 101 and took an extra course in Rude.

“Ignore Luke. He has a personality disorder.”

She turned toward the stairs behind her to find an impressive short, voluptuous brunette standing there in a pair of ragged jeans and a black tee.

Was there some unwritten law that everyone in her building had to be extremely attractive?

Anna wondered how she’d made the cut, given the fact that she was twenty pounds overweight and approaching middle age at warp speed. Not to mention, she was hot and sweaty, and unlike her neighbors, her sweat didn’t make her glisten.

It made her gross and smelly.

“Which Alphabet Soup label does he fall under?” Anna asked the beauty as she came closer.

“TAS.”

Anna scratched at the sweat on her cheek at one that was new to her. “Never heard of it.”

“Terminal Asshole Syndrome. Not sure if it was congenital or something he contracted after puberty. Either way, he has a fatal dose of it.”

She laughed at the woman. “I’m Anna Carol, by the way.”

“Two first names? Or did God not like you, to curse you with that particular moniker.”

“The latter.”

“Ouch. Not that the Big Guy or mi querida madre was any kinder to me.” She tucked her hands in to her jeans pockets. “Marisol Verástegui.”

“That’s beautiful.”

“Glad you think so. But then you’re not the one who has to try and get it straight at the DMV, or on any legal document. Talk about a nightmare!”

“I can see where that might make you crazy.”

“Oh yeah. But hey, it’s hysterical at Starbucks. I love to make the baristas cry.”

Anna laughed. While Luke might leave a lot to be desired in the friendly department, she really liked this neighbor. “It’s nice to meet you, Marisol. I take it you live upstairs, too?”

“I used to.” A dark sadness came into her eyes.

“Used to?”

Marisol nodded, then turned around and walked through the wall.

Anna choked on a scream.

The entire backside of Marisol’s skull was missing.





Chapter 2


You can’t break your lease, Ms. Carol. It’s impossible.”

Anna gripped her phone tighter. Over the last two weeks, she hadn’t slept, or had a moment of peace. The hauntings that had begun with Luke—who turned out to be a suicide from three years ago, and Marisol who’d died in a murder last year—had only gotten worse and worse.

“Of course, I can. Just tell me how much.”

The realtor let out a low, sinister laugh that didn’t sound like her usual high-pitched voice. “You don’t understand. You entered the agreement of your own free volition. No one forced you into it. The moment you did so, you became one of ours.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. You came to me seeking a new life. I delivered it. You have a new job and place to live. I fulfilled our bargain. In return, you signed away your soul.”

This had to be a joke. Was she high?

“Um... what?”

“You heard me,” she repeated. “Read the fine print on the contract. You came here looking to start over. I told you when I handed you the keys, and you crossed the apartment’s threshold that you would be entering a whole new life. Did you think I was kidding?”

“I assumed you were speaking metaphorically.”

“Well you know what they say about assume. It makes an ass out of u and me.” Then, the witch had the nerve to actually hang up.

Hang up!

Demonic laughter rang through her apartment.

Unamused, Anna stood there, grinding her teeth.